


Harry's Pets

by emansil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Voyeur Harry Potter, pleasure slaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 15:03:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11969865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emansil/pseuds/emansil
Summary: The Wizengamot, bowing to public pressure, had finally come to an answer. Slytherins, all ex-Slytherins plus any others that were known to be part of Voldemort’s followers had two choices: Imprisonment in Azkaban for the rest of their days, or being sold into slavery.





	Harry's Pets

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling and associates. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> **Highlight for Warnings:** * This is a story about pleasure slaves, a fairly popular trope in fandom. No offense was intended, though some may find it triggery, (in light of recent events). *  
>  **Beta:** and . I thank both of you from the bottom of my heart.   
> **Author’s notes** see warnings

Noise from the far right corner of the field halted Harry’s process. He turned to look and cursed. Fuck it was another slave auction. Merlin’s balls, but he hated those things.

The surprising turn of events after the second war—the one in which he had defeated Voldemort—had been a constant source of irritation for him and many others that had actually fought in the war. They however had been in the minority. The winning side wanted their pound of flesh. Punishment for all the pain and humiliation and suffering they had been dealt from the Death Eaters and the like. 

All would be made to pay, from the youngest just sorted into Slytherin to the eldest, geriatric and bordering on dementia, witches and wizards having graduated from Slytherin house a century before. If they were Slytherin, they were bad, an inane connection that had somehow grown up in the public mind after the last war. One that Harry had fought against for years. They would have to suffer.

Financial reparation had been suggested, but quickly rejected. Some of them, the Malfoy’s for instance had more money than the Ministry, and would hardly miss the twenty-five percent required. Others like the Parkinsons, who had been living way, way above their means, had even less wizarding funds than the Weasleys. You couldn’t squeeze galleons from a turnip. Reparations were not an option.

The Wizengamot bowing to public pressure had finally come to an answer. Slytherins, all ex Slytherins plus any others that were known to be part of Voldemort’s followers had two choices: Imprisonment in Azkaban for the rest of their days, or being sold into slavery. Available to the highest bidder, as long as the finances of the bidder showed they could properly provide. 

The only thing tolerable about any of this arrangement had been that no one received the Kiss, though conditions at Azkaban were still intolerable. The other was that the ones accepting the role of slavery were cared for with great consideration and concern. Mistreatment of any kind was simply not tolerated. Slaves could, and were often encouraged, to bring complaints against their owners. 

Few did, as that meant going back on the block. From Harry’s understanding most of the slaves believed in the “better the devil you know than the devil you don’t” philosophy. 

Quickening his steps, he hurried past the display of tents covering a half-acre lot across from the public Quidditch Pitch. Families brought their children here, what were they thinking? His gaze was captured, something drew his eye. The glint of sunshine on pale blond hair. Malfoy. 

He stopped in his tracks and stared directly at what he’d just caught a glimpse of. Long legs, silver hair, and pale creamy skin lay entwined on a bench against dark skin with close cropped tightly kinked hair. Malfoy and Zabini together. 

The sight was spellbinding and Harry, without thought or intention, moved forward, closer and closer. The details began to standout. Both of them naked as new born babes except for the collar of rough grey metal around Malfoy’s neck, and the cheap bronze belt around Zabini’s waist. The chains to each were long and somewhat slender and ugly, even if made of quality material. They deserved better. Harry thought. 

There was plenty of room for them to move around if they should so desire. Two large containers of water were placed along one side of their cage. As Harry watched he could see that it replenished itself regularly. It wasn’t the best situation, but they seemed to be being adequately taken care of. 

Zabini rested against one end of the bench with Malfoy leaning against him. Malfoy’s back pressed up against Zabini’s chest, his head tilted slightly forward. Zabini held a small silver brush in his hand. Slowly and sensuously he ran the brush through Malfoy’s chin length hair. Malfoy moaned in nothing but pure pleasure that went straight to Harry’s cock. He wanted to be the one to pull that sound from Malfoy. He gasped, silently, shocked at how much he suddenly wanted. 

He thought the gasp had been silent, but Zabini’s head jerked at the sound and he turned towards Harry. Harry stood humiliated, but unable to get his feet to move. Their eyes met and something passed between them. Harry had never been attracted to Zabini-unlike Malfoy who Harry had to admit had often had a starring role in many of Harry’s wank fantasies.

But seeing Zabini’s dark skin, the colour rich and decadent, burnished and shining from some sort of oil against the pale white creamy complexion of Malfoy. Harry suddenly and desperately wanted them both. Whether they were to be sold as a pair, or apart, he didn’t know. What he did know was that beyond any doubt, those two should never be separated. 

Like salt and pepper, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, Molly and Arthur, these two beings of beauty and sensuousness belonged together.

The unexpected realisation that he was seriously considering purchasing slaves, these slaves, came as a shock. He was about to support a policy he had spent the past three years fighting against. Cursing himself vehemently, he turned to leave. He turned back, wanting just one last look. Another chance to preserve to memory, the perfection of what was before him. It would make a whole repertoire of wank fantasies.

Zabini leaned forward and whispered something in Malfoy’s ear. The flat of his fingers ran down Malfoy’s chest grazing against what had to be Malfoy’s nipples. Malfoy’s back turned to Harry, he couldn’t know for sure.

Malfoy made another moan of pleasure and arched up to the touch. He looked back up at Zabini and a smile—fucking beautiful—graced his face. He turned his body in such a way that it now faced Harry.

Malfoy’s cock, pink against his white skin surrounded by curls of pale gold was at half-mast. He never looked at Harry, but Harry knew, beyond any doubt, that what was about to happen was for his benefit. He glanced around to see if anyone was watching, but the early morning hour left him an audience of one. Harry slipped his hand in his front pocket, his fingers grazing against his own cock which stiffened at the slightest touch. 

He watched Zabini’s hand—long tapered fingers with nails buffed and pale pink against the burnished skin—reach around Malfoy’s waist. Those fingers began to stroke the skin from his abdomen, along this side of his rib cage, up his sternum and down his chest. Pausing to tweak and pull harshly at Malfoy’s nipples. Malfoy arched up into the touch and turned his head to capture Zabini’s mouth with his. 

That kiss-Fuck! -That kiss almost had Harry coming in his pants. He pressed his hand against his prick that begged to be released from its confines. 

Harry’s mouth watered, as Malfoy’s prick grew to its full size and hardness. God he wanted to taste that. It was like he’d never tasted cock before, he wanted it so badly.

The kiss at lasted ended, Malfoy uncurled himself and stood. For a brief second Harry had a clear shot at Zabini’s prick. And dear Circe above, it was stupendous. Longer and thicker than it had any human right to be, and again, Harry wanted. Wanted to feel that thick shaft fill him up—split him open—make him scream with the pain and pleasure of it. 

Then the moment was gone. Malfoy turned around; his gaze now focused solely on Harry. As if wanting to pull a reaction from him, he swung a leg on each side of the bench. He bent slightly forward and with his hand he took hold of Zabini’s cock and lined it up against his hole. Slowly and steadily, as if Zabini’s cock was being threaded into his hole, he lowered himself onto that prick. 

Harry was torn. Overcome with jealousy that Malfoy got to have that in him, and joy that if Malfoy could take Zabini, then he’d have no problem with Harry’s own substantially sized dick. Harry snickered quietly, puffing out his chest a bit as he did. He wasn’t known by those he had fucked, as “Hung Harry” for nothing. 

The need for touch took precedence over any potential embarrassment. With the tip of his wand he ripped an opening in his trousers, one that gave him full access to his cock: swollen and leaking, and desperate to be touched. Gripping it in his hand, Harry roughly ran his fist from bottom to tip. Pushing back the foreskin, his thumb caught the pre-come that had already pooled. 

A low moan of desire escaped. He snapped his eyes open to see if the other two had heard. They had.

Malfoy and Zabini both had their gazes focused on Harry. Malfoy stared at Harry’s hand inside his pocket and smirked, as if to say. ‘I see you. And I’m going to make sure, you are unable to not touch yourself.’ 

Again Malfoy raised and lowered himself on Zabini’s cock, then closing his eyes; Draco hung his head forward and began to slowly fuck himself on that same cock as if no one existed but him and Blaise. Sometimes he raised and lowered with slow and measured timing, other times it was fast and rough, and sometimes he simply rolled his hips back and forth taking Zabini in deeper and deeper. Zabini’s grasp on Draco’s jutting hip bones, guiding but never controlling, also alternated. Between loose and easy, and firm and rough, all in tandem with the movements Malfoy was making. 

Harry’s own hand sped up and altered its own grip, also in response to what was happening in his living wet dream. 

Malfoy’s prick darkened to a pale mauve. He arched his back, mouth open in pure pleasure. Streams of thick viscous fluid shot from his cock splattering across his abdomen, hitting parts of his chest. Zabini kept fucking for a few seconds then he too made a strangled sound of intense release. Harry could practically feel Zabini’s come filling Malfoy up, so full that it had no choice but to leak out. 

Zabini pushed Malfoy forward, and began to lick and slurp at his own ejaculate dripping out of Malfoy’s arse

It was too much, Harry’s own release tore from him, and his mouth opened in a rictus of absolute pleasure. 

He took a few minutes to recover himself before he could look back at the others. Malfoy was curled in Zabini’s arms and they were kissing, like they had not just put on a show for another, like they were not currently on display in an iron cage for any, and all to observe. And not like they had anything but complete and enduring love for one another. 

Inexplicably, Harry felt his eyes start to tear. Fuck, but he wanted that, wanted to spend his days and nights between them, sandwiched between the two of them, fucking and being fucked. Harry was good either way.

Harry wanted them. And he was going to have them. His mind made up, he spun around in search for the person in charge. He had a purchase to make.

End of part 1. 

Clearly this is not the end, but it is for now. BBTP has a one day only sale. The rest of this will come when other fest related due things have been finished. Hope you enjoyed.


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